


MCYT Oneshots (Mostly Sleepy Bois Inc. tho)

by FAILUR3



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: DreamSMP - Freeform, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FAILUR3/pseuds/FAILUR3
Summary: im a sucker for family fics so i decided to take matters into my own hands and write my own. includes: soft technoblade epic duo tommy/tubbo dadza wilbur/ghostbur? MILD ANGST in some, but ill add tw's at the beginning of chapters!!
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	1. Fields of Fondness

**Author's Note:**

> this is kinda short but uhh yeah have some wilbur and techno for the soul :) no one's probably gonna see this but ayeee if you are, hope u like it requests are open, i probably wont get any but uhh y e a

The evening was quiet in the fields, with the tall grass swaying in the hot summer air. The sun was finally setting, dipping behind the mountains that encased the valley where a relatively small and quaint house sat in the center.

Just outside the house sat Technoblade, having his long bubblegum-pink hair brushed by Wilbur. The dark haired brother hummed a tune while separating Techno’s soft hair into different sections to make brushing it easier and less painful for Techno.

“I’m surprised you wanted me to brush and braid your hair,” Wilbur murmured, gently removing a leaf from Techno’s head that had gotten tangled in his hair.

“Don’t think this’ll be a  _ thing _ , Wil.” he rumbled, plucking off the petals of a tulip.

Wilbur chuckled, tugging at a knot with the brown brush he held and smiled. “I figured, but it’s nice isn’t it?”

They both flinched as a loud shriek echoed in the valley, coming from inside their house. Following the scream, a loud scolding from their father, Philza, came from inside as well. The noises faded away, and Wilbur returned to detangling his brother’s hair.

“Specifically  _ what  _ is nice? The fact that you’re sitting on my hair  _ again? _ ” Techno teased.

Wilbur shifted, muttering a quick apology, and he looked around the scenery while working on his brother’s hair. 

To the left of their house was a tall oak tree, with a worn and broken swing still hanging from one of the lower-hanging branches. Wilbur remembered with a soft grin when he and Techno were younger and they’d take turns pushing each other.

Philza would watch them play on it, and after Tommy had been adopted, the two older siblings would push him. Because Tommy had been so young at the time, one of the two had to sit on the swing and keep Tommy in his lap while the other gently pushed the swing.

Their archery range, built by Phil himself, had many fond memories, the most prominent one in Wilbur’s mind being when Techno was able to shoot an apple that sat on Phil’s head. Techno has been around 11, and Tommy was just 7, but he remembered the pride in Phil’s smile when the arrow whizzed over his head and landed in the center of the apple. He remembered Techno jumping up and down, laughing in victory, and he remembered Tommy clapping.

The fields themselves were cherished by Wilbur, too. He and Techno had spent hours upon hours sparring and play-fighting. Sometimes, to test Techno’s skills, they still went out and sparred, but it seemed better when they’d do it as kids. Maybe because both of their senses of imagination had long since faded away.

“You done, guitar boy?” Techno coughed.

Wilbur blinked and shook his head. “Sorry, I got distracted, I’m nearly done detangling it, though,”

Techno hummed in approval, hissing when Wilbur finished untangling the last knot. “I thought you said you’d be gentle, nerd.”

“I was! Now, sit still, I have to part your hair,” Wilbur shifted again and dragged the comb gently down the middle of his scalp, separating the hair once again. “When are you gonna learn to do this yourself? Then you won’t complain about me ‘hurting’ you again,”

There was no answer, and the buzzing of the mosquitoes filled the silence. Wilbur sectioned the hair into three parts and started braiding it loosely, falling into a pattern of out goes in, out goes in.

Soon enough, Technoblade was ready, hair braided and done. Wilbur patted his back and helped him up while Techno mumbled his thanks. He watched his brother walk away into the house, asking Phil what they were having for dinner. Tommy made a remark about something, but he was too far to hear exactly what.

Wilbur looked back at the swing, then the archery range, and then down at the ground he stood on. Sure, a lot had changed since they were all kids, and Wilbur missed the fun times they’d had, but change never hurt.

And, as he walked into the house, he couldn’t wait to make more memories in the future.


	2. Cut It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the point of keeping your hair long if there's no one to braid it?  
> A.K.A Technoblade angst  
> !!SPOILERS FOR THE DREAMSMP!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up and chose violence, I'm sorry. Also, I know I said I'd be doing light angst, but I went to bed with this idea and I really want to write it, I'm very sorry in advance. However, I'm working on a Tommy/Tubbo chapter where they have a wholesome moment, I might be able to upload it today. I apologize again if I can't but I have therapy today as well so I just wanted to get at least something short out. Thank you to everyone who has left a kudos!!

"All of it?"

"Yeah, all of it,"

Technoblade sat at the counter in his house, his long red cloak draped over his shoulders. It was quiet, only Ranboo's footsteps were to be heard and the occasional grunt from Techno. He was grateful the young boy had agreed to do a job he couldn't bring himself to do.

He was cutting off his hair.

There was no point in keeping his hair long and soft if there was no one to braid it for him. No one to brush it out in the fields or put flowers in it. Nobody to curl it nicely for him before a big event. So why keep something that was useless?

Ranboo reached over and took the large pair of scissors in his hand, hovering over the older man's hair. "Are you sure? It's a lot of hair, it's gonna take a while to grow back to this length, Techno," Ranboo swallowed.

There was silence in the air. It hurt Techno to think about cutting his hair, that was true, but he didn't know if the pain over keeping his hair long would be any less. He couldn't bear to think about getting out of the shower, hair long and tangled, to stare at himself in the mirror knowing Wilbur wouldn't be there to brush it out before bed and dry it properly like he always did. His eyes stung, holding back tears.

"Yeah, just cut it off. Don't- don't ask about it, just-" his voice was quiet and shaky, raw with emotions he hadn't felt in a long time.

Eyes shut as he heard the scissors snip off the first few locks of hair. Ranboo worked quietly, mouth drawn into a thin line of concentration. Strands of matted hair fell gently to the ground. Techno felt as if there was a sort of weight lifted off his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, this would help him heal.

Soon, after Techno's hair was cut short, Ranboo brought him a mirror. Techno took it gingerly and held it up to his face, turning his head to look at his new hair. A small gasp escaped his lips; he'd never seen himself with hair as short as this, or at least that he remembered. He reached up slowly and ran a hand gently through his hair, messing it up more. Not that he cared, of course, but it felt weird. Would Wilbur have approved of this? Would he have been angry or disappointed?

"Thanks, Ranboo. You can uh, leave now," it was more of an order than a suggestion.

Ranboo nodded, tucking the scissors under his arm and making his way to the door in one swoop. "You're welcome, Techno. I'm here if you ever need me," the door shut with a loud creaking sound. Techno heard the snow crunching underneath the young boy's feet as he walked away.

If he sat in that chair any longer, Techno felt like he'd explode, so he got up and threw his cloak aside, brushing away his hair from the piece of clothing. He swung the cloak around his shoulders and clipped it onto his shirt. Bending down, picking up a strand of his pink hair, he tucked it into his pocket for later.

After a few more final preparations, he stepped outside into the cold of the snowy biome. Wind howled relentlessly in his ears and tugged at his clothes. He took a deep breath of the frigid air and set forward, trudging down a faint path into a woodland not far from home.

Thoughts and painful remembering of the past haunted him on his journey. Wilbur's smile, his laugh, the way he took his time detangling Techno's hair and then braided it neatly afterward. Those long summer nights when it was too hot to sleep so they went out sparring at 1 a.m. The beautiful melodies he'd create on the guitar he'd found on the side of an abandoned village. He'd taken it home and patched it up, gave it new strings and sanded it down. Sometimes, when Techno laid in bed restless, he could hear the sweet sound of those guitar strings being plucked gently to form a tune. Most of the songs were made up on the spot, with no name or actual sheet music for them, but that's what made them so special. They were once-in-a-lifetime rarities, like finding a spider jockey.

He wanted to punch Wilbur for not writing them all down. Then, maybe he could've learned them and played them, and the gap in his heart wouldn't be so big.

Finally, the path gave way to a clearing of trees where there was no snow. The spruce canopy overhead was far too thick for the snow to get in, which is what made it perfect for a grave.

Techno knew that the stone in front of him with Wilbur's name carved into it wasn't the actual grave. He didn't know what became of his brother's body, or if he ever got an official funeral. But at least dedicating a spot to him was the least Techno felt he could do. He took a step closer, and closer, until the tombstone was inches away. He lowered himself on his knees and sat in front of the grave, listening to the wind.

The wind was loud, almost like a scream. Maybe it was Wilbur's screams, or the screams of the townsfolk when L'Manberg blew up by the very man who gave it life. Either way, they created an eerie atmosphere surrounding the grave.

Taking another deep breath he pressed a hand to the surface of the tombstone, feeling the cool and polished stone under his touch. His fingers traced over the carved letters that spelled WILBUR SOOT on the smooth surface. With his index finger, he outlined the edges of the tombstone, thinking about the last time he spoke to Wilbur. He couldn't really remember, it had been some time ago, but he hoped Wilbur knew that Techno cared about him.

Reluctantly, Techno brought out the strand of hair he'd brought along.

"I... I cut my hair, Wilbur," he whispered to the grave, "I'm sorry, I know you liked my long hair but-" he stopped, suddenly feeling stupid. It's not like Wilbur would be here anyway. But a feeling in his gut urged him on. "but I brought you a piece of it," he paused again, realizing how strange and gross it was to bring your dead brother a lock of your hair. He carried on, however. "I'll leave it here, under a rock or something, just so you won't miss me too much," he forced out a small chuckle, setting the lock of hair down and placing a heavy rock on top.

He stood back up, watching a bit of his hair that peeked out from under the rock flutter in the wind. Change would hurt, it always did. But dwelling on the past would do him no good, and Techno still needed to carry on with his life as much as it pained him. It'd had already been a while since his death, maybe a few months or so, and in those months he'd been secretly hurting. He needed to start stepping away before the sorrow and pain consumed him whole. He needed to listen to Philza, and he would.

Still, it hurt to see Wilbur's beanie hung on his doorknob when Techno got back home, and his guitar propped up against his wall, never to be played again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CREDIT TO @atelventwenty ON TIKTOK, I BASED TECHNOBLADE ON THEIR COSPLAY OF TECHNO, ALSO I THINK THEY COVERED THIS HEADCANNON, NOT SURE TBH.  
> I hope you enjoyed even though this chapter was very angsty, I promise some Tommy/Tubbo friendship fluff next!!  
> ~Requests are open!! No romantic ships though, I'm not very good at romance and I'm not comfortable writing ships!! Also, nothing sexual either, sorry!! I mainly write fluff and angst, so those are welcome!~  
> -dainty <3


	3. Beads in the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Tubbo make each other friendship necklaces in the forest :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, the tommy/tubbo fic to heal your soul after that techno angst. !!this is not a ship fic!! i just love and adore the idea of these two rowdy fellas making each other necklaces to wear, yk?  
> ~comments/kudos welcome and appreciated! thank you sm for all the kudos!~  
> -x requests open! conditions for requests at the end of the chapter! x-

There was nothing Tommy would rather be doing than hanging out with his best bud Tubbo. The two boys were sat under a tall spruce tree in the forest, hidden among the vines and ferns that sprouted from the ground and tree trunks. A picnic basket laid open between them, full of sandwiches and drinks for them. Overhead the birds in the canopy were chirping to each other delightfully as the sun hung high.

A bag of beads sat on each of their laps as they chatted, stringing beads to form a necklace.

“Hey Tubbo, are you gonna actually wear the necklace I make you?” Tommy inquired, digging into the bag for more yellow beads.

Tubbo let out a small offended gasp, separating the red beads from the rest in the baggie. “Of course I will, Tommy! Why wouldn’t I?”

The blonde boy dangled the partially-finished necklace in the air, following the swaying beads with his eyes. “Well, Tubbo,” he lowered the necklace and laid it out on the blanket beneath them so Tubbo could look at it, “as you can tell, I’m not a man of arts-and-crafts,” 

Birdsong and the quiet rustling of the greenery around them filled the silence in the air as Tubbo reached out to touch the beads strung on the necklace with his index finger softly. 

“Tommy, it looks wonderful so far! It’s got yellow and brown-” Tubbo grinned, looking up at Tommy.

“Like da bee!” they laughed in unison. 

“If you say so, Tubbo,” Tommy carefully picked up the necklace and continued beading. He’d chosen a simple pattern of yellow and brown, in resemblance to bees: Tubbo’s favorite animal.

While Tommy struggled to find more yellow beads, Tubbo was quietly putting together a beaded star to add to the necklace. He had more experience in the beading department, with so much free time being an only child. A simple color scheme of white and red was what he’d gone with, seeing as it would go with Tommy’s favorite shirt.

“Tubbo, do you think it’s weird that fish don’t have dicks?”

Tubbo froze, eyes straying over to Tommy in confusion. Tommy was still beading like nothing as if the question was something completely normal. Straightening his posture, Tubbo gave the query some thought.  _ Was  _ it weird that fish didn’t have dicks?

“Uh, I dunno big man, kinda,”

“You know, Tubbo, now that I think about it, all the better it seems that fishes don’t have dicks.”

“Why’s that?” Tubbo tied the two ends of the string for the star tightly and set it aside to start working on the main necklace.

“Because if fishes don’t have dicks, then there’s no men-fishes, which is very pogchamp, because men are trash, big man.” Tommy laughed his signature laugh, and Tubbo couldn’t help but giggle too.

They carried on beading in relative silence, basking in each other’s presence. Tommy couldn’t bear to think about what life would be like without Tubbo, and Tubbo couldn’t bear to think about what life would be like without Tommy. The two boys fit together like puzzle pieces, best friends till the very end. Every waking moment they spent together was cherished by both, and they simply completed each other.

After a while longer of beading, they were both done. Tubbo presented the necklace made for Tommy first, and Tommy took it tenderly in his hands.

“Tubbo! I-I love it, big man!” Tommy ran his fingers over the beads, especially admiring the red and white star in the center. “Aw, now I feel bad because mine isn’t  _ nearly  _ as good,” he frowned.

“Tommy, don’t feel bad! I can teach you some other time how to make bead stars,” Tubbo put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Oh alright, here’s yours,”

Tommy reached over and grabbed the yellow and brown necklace, handing it to Tubbo. “It’s just a simple necklace, I don’t really know how to make very- detailed? Intricate?- things like you,” 

Tubbo examined the necklace carefully in his hands. Despite the simplistic pattern, Tubbo couldn’t help but adore it.  _ Tommy _ , his ride or die friend, had made it for  _ him _ , for no one else but him. He slipped the necklace on and let it settle on his collar bones comfortably.

“I love it Tommy! Thank you very much!” Tubbo smiled, clapping while Tommy puffed his chest out in pride.

“Put yours on, please?”

Tommy put the necklace on and adjusted it until the star was resting against his chest in the middle. He looked at Tubbo with wide eyes and a stupid grin, which sent Tubbo to the floor laughing. He couldn’t help but laugh at his own antics, so he joined Tubbo rolling on the forest floor. Their laughter echoed in the woods, rippling off the trees and shrubs. 

Once their fits of laughter ebbed away, they stayed there laying in the moist dirt. They looked at each other, smiling.

“Promise you’ll always wear your necklace?” Tubbo offered his hand, pinky finger sticking up.

Tommy stuck out his pinky finger and intertwined it with Tubbo’s giving it a firm shake. “Promise, big man,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading!  
> -x REQUEST CONDITIONS x-  
> > I will not be writing romance/sexual relationships. I'm sorry, they're just not my forte :(  
> > No major violence, such as gore-y topics/suggestions  
> ~that is all! i hope you enjoyed this, and have a wonderful day/night!~


	4. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno recounts the first time he heard voices in his head.  
> !!TW FOR MILD VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF BLOOD/BLEEDING, SWORDS!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u enjoy!! i wanted to write something revolving around techno (mainly bc he's one of my fav's)  
> !!again, this chapter does cover mentions of mild violence (sparring/sword fighting), blood/bleeding, and mentions swords, so there's ur second warning!!

Voices were something Technoblade had always struggled with since he could remember.

Not people’s voices, necessarily, but the raspy ones in his brain that whispered wrongdoings to him when he was trying to live his life. Rumbling and low in the back of his mind, they seemed to creep out and terrorize him when he was enjoying himself most.

The first incident with the voices happened long ago, when he and his brother Wilbur were still kids. Although the memory is quite foggy in his brain now, he remembers the jist of the accident.

Wilbur and Techno were sparring, and Philza had reluctantly agreed to let the two 11-year-old boys use stone swords as opposed to their usual wooden ones. Philza took them outside and allowed the boys to play with each other in the fields around their house. They were having fun, giggling at the clashing of their stone swords and rolling to dodge attacks. The flowers and tall grass tickled Technoblade’s skin and the high-hanging sun shed warmth onto his body.

Amid their battle, there was a rasping in the back of Techno’s mind. He whipped around, searching for the source of the sound. No one was there. 

“Hey, Wil, did you hear something?” the pink haired-boy grabbed his brother’s arm.

“ _ Hear  _ something?” Wilbur echoed, dropping the sword to his side.

“Yeah, kinda like a… a voice,” Techno narrowed his eyes, listening closely for the noise again. The only thing to be heard, however, was the faint creaking of Philza’s rocking chair on the porch and the wind as it blew the grass around them.

“No, Techno, I don’t hear anyone. Must’ve been the grass or something, but c’mon, let’s keep playing!” Wilbur backed away and raised the sword again with a grin.

Not completely convinced, Techno nodded and turned to face his brother with his sword at the ready.

**_Kill him._ **

Techno jumped at the voice, which allowed Wilbur to swipe at his feet lightly and bring the hybrid piglin off his feet. Wilbur punched the air in victory, earning a round of applause from Philza. Techno stayed on the ground for a while, paralyzed by the sudden words.

Wilbur took no notice and went parading around the fields boasting to the bugs and bees about his win. Techno finally stood, taking the sword in hand and clutching it tightly. He’d swing at whoever had said that, and be sure to take off their head, too.

Moments passed, and no one stepped forward, and the voice went away.

“Wilbur, not fair! I thought I heard someone, I demand a rematch, mortal!” he yelled, thrusting his sword in the air.

Wilbur skipped back, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Sure sure, Techno, rematch me.”

And Techno did. He lunged forward, swiping at Wilbur’s leg and ripping the fabric of his denim pants.

“Hey!” Wilbur chased after him.

**_Do as you’re told, Technoblade. Kill him, kill them all. You don’t need them._ **

The voice returned and upset Techno, but he didn’t protest. Strangely, his mind was in favor of obeying the mysterious voice. So he gave it his all, swinging and stabbing at Wilbur with a reckless abandon that morphed the young boy’s fits of giggles into cries for help and pleading for Techno to take it down a notch.

Did he listen to his begging brother?

**_No mercy, Technoblade. Only blood._ **

“Blood for the blood god,” he murmured, raising the sword high above Wilbur’s head.

Poor Wilbur was pinned down to the hard ground, the sharp stones tearing at his soft flesh. Thorns pricked his sides and got stuck in his clothes, but the worst of all was his breathing was being limited due to Techno’s weight.

“Please, Techno, s-stop!” Wilbur choked out, wincing while shielding his face away from the blade of the sword.

“Techno! What on earth are you  _ doing? _ ” Philza’s voice grew nearer, and Wilbur’s heart began to have hope.

The tip of the sword must’ve been just centimeters away from Wilbur’s face when he felt the weight of Techno being pushed off of him. With his eyes screwed shut, he heard Techno shriek and fall to the side with a  _ thump.  _

Philza ripped the blade from his son’s grip, cutting his palm by accident in the process. He wiped the blood off his hand on his pants, pulling Wilbur into his lap and brushing off sticks and dirt from the boy’s thin frame.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you too badly?” Philza thumbed at a streak of blood running down Wilbur’s cheek.

Wilbur shook his head, eyes straying to Techno on the ground. His brother was still lying there, dazed, muttering phrases Wilbur couldn’t bother to decipher. Their stone swords were thrown off to the side, far away from Techno.

“Techno! What the  _ hell  _ is wrong with you?!” Philza’s voice turned sharp and frightened Wilbur.

Techno sat up, rubbing his head. “W-what… huh?” he blinked.

“Look at how you’ve left Wil!”

“I-  _ me? _ ” Techno studied Wilbur’s tattered frame. “I didn’t- we-”

“Come on, let’s get you two inside, Techno, you’re grounded until I can figure you out,” Philza lifted Wilbur off his lap and into his arms, carrying him into the house.

Techno trailed behind them, looking more confused than ever. Something was happening in that brilliant brain that belonged to his brother, Wilbur was sure.

And he was right.

Techno was utterly confused. He remembered the whispers in his mind, pinning Wilbur to the dirty ground, and knocking his sword out of reach. But it was like watching a movie, with zero control over his body. The whispers had grown into ugly growls and screams, and they frightened Techno.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

After Wilbur was patched up and tucked into bed, Philza pulled Techno in the light of the kitchen and bent down to his son’s height.

“Techno, care to explain why you nearly impaled your brother today?”

Techno looked away, his hands fidgeting behind his back. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find the right words.

“There were voices, Phil.”

Philza raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

The young boy pointed to his head, meeting his gaze. “In my head, I think.”

Philza’s heart dropped. He’d read about voices in people’s minds before, out of curiosity, but now his  _ son  _ was dealing with them.

“What were they saying Techno?”

He hesitated, squinting his eyes to remember.

“I don’t remember, Phil, but they were… scary,” his voice shrank to a whisper.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, Techno. Try and sleep, and come for me if you hear them, alright?” Philza stood again.

Techno nodded before trudging up the stairs.

That night, Techno stayed awake because of the ugly voices in his head. He didn’t get Philza, out of guilt.

And now, 10 years later, Techno found himself wide awake listening to the many voices that had accumulated in his brain over the years argue. There was no cure for them, he just had to suck it up and deal with random whispers of  **_kill them all_ ** throughout the day. 

“Please, just stop,” he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly and draping an arm over his forehead.

“Please,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading, and ty to everyone leaving kudos!!
> 
> <3


	5. Ranboo Gets a New Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all in the title, Ranboo gets a new journal for his reminders after his old one fills up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooooo idk what this is but i wrote this while in class sooo yea I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors, enjoy!

Memory loss was an issue Ranboo had always struggled with. Usually, it was bearable, and he only forgot stupid details of the day, like whether the flower he’d smelled earlier was blue or yellow, but lately, it was getting worse. It had begun to feel like a chore to even recall what he’d done that morning, and needless to say, Philza was getting worried.

Ranboo had been living with Philza and Techno for a while now, maybe three months or so. He’d begun to think of Philza as like a dad, but he didn’t dare call him that. Techno had been relatively kind to him, which was surprising to Ranboo considering the pink-haired man was notorious for being violent and mean. 

Ranboo actually had kept a journal for himself, and it had gotten full of his little reminders long ago, but he tried to cram in more writing in the margins of the pages so as to not bother Philza or Techno for a new one. He realized though, as he wrote out what he had for breakfast in the morning, that he would need a new one for sure. It was becoming impossible to fit entire paragraphs in the corners of pages. His handwriting was becoming impossible to read.

“Everything okay, Ranboo?” Philza looked at the enderman hybrid sitting on the floor by the furnace.

“Uh…” Ranboo studied Philza quickly, noticing he had his gear on him. Philza was probably heading to the nether for more resources. He didn’t want to bother him. “Yeah, Phil, everything’s great,” he gave Philza a weak smile.

Philza narrowed his eyes, obviously not convinced. “Alright, well if there’s anything you need, Techno’s somewhere nearby.”

Ranboo nodded, watching Philza walk out of the house and into the snowy biome towards the portal. He looked down at his journal, eyes scanning the page for just one spot of empty paper where he could finish his entry. Of course, there was none. He flipped through each page, desperate for any blank area.

The door opened then shut, and Ranboo heard heavy footsteps trail over to the potion station.

“Hey Techno,” he mumbled.

“Hullo,” Techno said, refilling the potion brewery with their remaining nether wart. “What are you looking for in that book?”

Ranboo stopped flipping the pages and looked up. “Uh, nothing, just a spare page to finish my writing,”

Techno walked up to him and held out his hand. “Lemme help you look then,”

Without another word, Techno reached down and took the journal from his hands, skimming through the pages. Ranboo stuttered out enderman noises, and Techno tossed the journal back.

“Ranboo, there’s literally nowhere to write on that thing. How long have you had that- diary?- for?”

“Since I was a kid, but uh, it’s fine I’ll keep looking,” Ranboo cleared his throat, fidgeting with the pages of the journal.

“Bruh, Ranboo, you need a new one. Come on, I’ll even make it for you and you can choose what color you wanna dye it,” Techno pulled Ranboo to his feet by the young boy’s arm.

“There’s some leather in the chest behind you, bring it while I go find sugar cane for the pages,” he ordered, stepping out in search of sugar cane.

Ranboo stood there, clutching the journal to his chest. Quickly, he scribbled what Techno had asked of him on a slip of paper he found in his pocket. He turned around and dug through the chest Techno had mentioned- at least he had remembered  _ that _ \- until he found a scrap of leather big enough for a journal. Folded neatly, the leather was already quite soft and prepped to be used for bookbinding.

_ Why would there be leather for books here? Techno and Phil don’t write books, or write at all. _

Shrugging, Ranboo tucked the leather under his arm and headed outside to meet Techno. Surprisingly, it wasn’t snowing or windy, which was perfect to dye the leather. At the bottom of the stairs, Techno was pouring water into a cauldron that hung over a low fire, just hot enough to keep the water from freezing in the chilly winds of the outdoors. The pig hybrid looked up at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and gestured with his free hand over to a chest near the cauldron.

Ranboo handed the leather to Techno and he unfolded it, laying it flat out over the cauldron.

“What d’you want me to check inside the chest?” Ranboo called, kneeling in front of it curiously.

“There’s different kinds of dye in it, you can pick a color to dye the leather if you want,” Techno replied.

Ranboo lifted the lid of the chest open and stared at all the different colors inside. They were all probably leftover from Techno’s plans that had involved fireworks, not that the enderman hybrid cared. He chewed at his lower lip, having second thoughts. Techno was a busy guy, and he didn’t want to interrupt his duties.

“Uh, it’s fine really, you can keep the leather the same, it’ll probably take more time to dye it anyway,” Ranboo shut the chest closed.

“Nah, it really wouldn’t, I have to soak the leather in the water for a few minutes anyway to clean it and stuff, we could just throw in the dye,” Techno said.

“Oh. Well then,” he threw the lid open again and fished out a bit of red dye. Techno held his hand out, and Ranboo delicately placed the rose-colored dye in his hand. An enderman-like chirp escaped his mouth, and he quickly clamped his hand over it. Techno smirked and tossed the dye in along with the leather.

Noticing the boy’s discomfort in emitting a sound like that, Techno offered, “It’s fine man, I sound like a pig monster half the time,”

Ranboo removed his hand from his face and watched the leather slowly turn red. Techno meanwhile was fitting the sugar cane into pages, making sure they had plenty of room for writing. 

“Let me know when all the dye is gone, okay? Then we can take it out.” Techno called, setting aside the newly made sheets of paper.

Ranboo was still peering over the cauldron, mesmerized. “Sure,”

Soon the dye had disappeared, leaving the leather dyed a bright rose red. Ranboo called Techno over, and Techno carefully fished out the piece of leather and hung it to dry. While the leather dried off, Techno bound the pages together with a piece of string.   
Once the leather dried, which didn’t take very long as Techno had expected it to, he used a knife to cut a piece of leather big enough for the pages, then finished binding the book.

“Here you go, Ranboo,” Techno handed the shiny new journal to Ranboo.

“Thanks, T-Techno.” Ranboo took the journal delicately and trailed his gaze over every corner of the journal. He loved it.

“No problem,” Techno began cleaning up, and Ranboo helped.

As soon as the two went inside since the wind had picked up, Ranboo jotted down what he’d done with Techno.

Philza arrived home shortly, and the three had baked potatoes for dinner. Ranboo kept the journal by him throughout their meal, and Phiza noticed.

“What’s that Ranboo?” he asked.

Ranboo swallowed, picking up the journal gently. “Oh, it’s a new journal Technoblade made for me! It’s great isn’t it?”

Philza nodded, and Techno grunted in pride. 

Ranboo switched his gaze from Techno and Philza, feeling grateful for the two. He’d probably be dead if it weren’t for them.

After they’d gone to bed, Ranboo tore out a page in his journal and wrote a thank-you note to both Philza and Techno, leaving it on the door with a smiley face drawn in the corner. 

**_Thank you guys._ **

**_-Ranboo :)_ **

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed and uhh have a good day/night! :)


End file.
